


Happy Fields Where Joy For Ever Dwells

by brevitas



Series: Path to Paradise [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christian Mythology AU, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire gets his date but it begins to rain; Enjolras' reaction to his panic surprises him.</p><p>Or in which Enjolras takes Grantaire to Hawaii because he cannot be cruel to a demon that's trying so hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Fields Where Joy For Ever Dwells

"Alright you assholes," Grantaire declares, throwing open the front door with a bang. The groups are always housed together and he's not surprised to find both Courfeyrac and Bahorel on the couch, the former lying almost entirely on the latter and playing on their Xbox. Both look up at his entrance, and Bahorel lifts a black eyebrow.

"I got Enjolras to say yes to a date." Grantaire grins at Courfeyrac's open-mouthed surprise and adds smugly, "As payment for making you leave his friend alone."

"Hey, hey, hey," Courfeyrac says, sitting up further. He accidentally elbows Bahorel and gets a savage chop to the ribs for it, wriggling away from the fighter and flopping gracelessly off the couch. "You're not the boss of me. I can fuck around with whomever I want."

Grantaire snorts and ruffles his hair as he walks past, ducking into the kitchen. Food is not a necessity here and for the most part their fridge is stocked with alcohol. "It was the only way," he tells Courfeyrac, stooped over and carefully choosing which brand he wants. "I'm sure you can find some sort of loophole."

Bahorel slings an arm along the back of the couch and turns to look over his shoulder at Grantaire. "Would Enjolras forbid it if what's-his-name _asked_ Courfeyrac to come?"

Courfeyrac sits up on the carpet, drawing a knee to his chest. "Wow, Bahorel," he says, surprised. "That's actually pretty clever."

"Didn't end up in Hell just for my fists," he answers with a laugh, and pushes Courfeyrac over with his foot.

Grantaire ignores them and straightens with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, stepping over Courfeyrac in order to take his seat on the couch. Bahorel moves his legs for Grantaire but he still sits mostly on the boxer’s feet.

“It’s tomorrow night,” he says, cracking open the whiskey. Courfeyrac leans against his knees.

“Dude,” he complains, tipping his head back to squint up at Grantaire. “That’s barely enough time to get you ready.”

Bahorel snorts, snagging Courfeyrac’s controller and taking over the game. “I’m not helping anybody play dress-up,” he tells them both, and Courfeyrac rolls his eyes.

“Some guys,” he stage-whispers to Grantaire, “Are just so hopeless that they don’t even know they’re alone ‘cause they won’t wear a suit.”

“Fuck you,” Bahorel tells him, and Grantaire and Courfeyrac laugh.

“Seriously though,” Courfeyrac says when the chuckles have died out. “Have you decided what you’re gonna wear?” When Grantaire shakes his head Cour asks, “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Sure. Enjolras told me to meet him at some restaurant in Vienna.”

“Vienna?” Courfeyrac echoes, and his eyes hold far too much mirth for this. Grantaire begins to regret bringing it up at all. “You _have_ to wear a suit to Vienna.”

“I don’t know,” Grantaire answers doubtfully. “You really think a suit is necessary?”

Courfeyrac stands, dragging Grantaire to his feet with him. “Fuck yes I do. Now come on; we gotta move fast.” He tears out of the room with Grantaire in tow and Bahorel watches them go, shaking his head at their exit.

+++++

Grantaire is so exhausted from Courfeyrac’s bursting energy that when seven fifteen rolls around the next night he doesn’t even have time to be nervous. Instead he says, “Oh fuck, _finally_ ,” and stands with a great deal of relief.

Courfeyrac regards him with a sly grin and fixes his hair one last time, escorting him to the front door. “You look good,” he says brightly and he’s not lying. Grantaire is wearing a black suit with a devilish cut and a red undershirt that, showing at his collar, adds color to the pallid hue of his skin. “I do damn good work.”

Grantaire chuckles and says, “Yeah, thanks, Cour. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Aye, Captain,” Courfeyrac replies with a wink. He watches Grantaire head out proudly and Bahorel says from the couch, “That was pretty tricky of you, Cour.”

“Whatever could you mean?” Courfeyrac asks, grinning as he comes over and flops down on the couch. “I didn’t do anything.”

Bahorel snorts. “Driving Grantaire half-crazy so he doesn’t get nervous enough to call it off? It was actually pretty brilliant.”

“Wow, Bahorel,” Courfeyrac says with feigned wide eyes. “A helpful comment and a touching compliment in one day? Are you getting sick?”

“Fuck off, Courfeyrac,” Bahorel says, but he passes him a second controller all the same.

+++++

Grantaire only gets anxious when he pulls himself out in Vienna.

He was too busy ducking demons on his way to the portal to think about it, and on the way up he’s concerned with not ruining his suit. It’s only when he stands and brushes dirt off his hands that it hits him—he’s going to a date with an angel, an angel who is possibly the most beautiful man ever to live. To make it better he coerced the angel into this aforementioned date, and he really isn’t sure if Enjolras is going to show at all (and what would he do after that? Pine over an angel he could never have?)

His stomach is in knots as he approaches the restaurant, taking an unnecessary tenth glance at his clock (it’s seven twenty eight) as he steps inside. It’s not as fancy as he imagined but there is a host, and she smiles when he pauses in front of her podium.

“Just one, sir?” She asks politely. He shakes his head, scanning the tables and trying to spot Enjolras.

“I’m meeting someone,” he says. “He’s uh, blonde, pretty tall, really gorgeous?”

She giggles and says, “As much as I wish it, sir, I haven’t seen anybody by that description tonight.”

He tries not to appear too distressed and looks at his watch again; it reads seven thirty one, a minute past their scheduled time. “Are you sure?” He asks. “I may be exaggerating how pretty he is.”

“What a rude thing to say about your date,” Enjolras says smoothly behind him, wrapping an arm around Grantaire’s waist and smiling at the host. She snaps her mouth shut with a blush as he says, “I’m terribly sorry to be late but I do have a reservation.”

She nods mechanically and returns to the podium, accepting the human name Enjolras gives her. She leads them to a booth in the back and introduces them to their waiter before hurrying off. Enjolras parts from Grantaire’s side only then, taking a seat opposite the demon.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I got caught up at work.”

Grantaire nods understandably and doesn’t mention how Enjolras had greeted him in front of the host, with the arm around his waist and a familiarity that they certainly don’t possess. He casts him a curious glance about it but says nothing and apparently he doesn’t have to.

“I’m also sorry for grabbing you at the door like that,” Enjolras says but offers no explanation as to why he did it. Grantaire doesn’t ask.

The date is much like any dinner between friends; Grantaire gets to learn a little more about Enjolras and shares vague details when the angel asks after his own life. He discovers that Enjolras died a revolutionary many years ago in France but he gets somber when he speaks of it so Grantaire doesn’t bring it up again; in return Enjolras learns that Grantaire is exceptionally close to the two men he works with and considers them brothers.

Enjolras does not ask why Grantaire fell to Hell—Grantaire doesn’t ask why Enjolras rose to Heaven. To both it’s an exceptionally polite date and Enjolras may be a bit more impressed than he lets on.

When they finish their meal they walk together to the door, where Grantaire expects Enjolras to split as quickly as he is able. He’s surprised when the angel suggests instead that they, “take a stroll,” wording that earns a laugh from Grantaire and a prompt agreement.

Enjolras leads them to a quieter part of the city, where the nightlife isn’t quite bustling yet and the streets are practically empty. Grantaire nervously glances at the sky but tries not to panic over the troubled clouds; he’s not familiar with the weather over here, and he’s not able to predict whether it’s going to rain or not. Either way he crosses his fingers that it won’t.

Their conversation continues here. Grantaire gets to learn about both Jehan and Marius, the last member of their triumvirate, the one who had chased Courfeyrac off upon seeing him scandalously close with the flowered angel. Both of them are good men and all three are close to another trio of angels, one containing a man who was Enjolras’ best friend in life. He speaks about them too and Grantaire listens to stories of Combeferre and Cosette and Joly, a guide, a maiden and a doctor.

In return Grantaire shares stories about his own friends. He talks about Feuilly, Bossuet and Eponine and how they’re all hard-working people who refuse to take anybody’s shit. He tells Enjolras that Eponine is the toughest broad he’s ever met and that she’s repeatedly stood up to the Big Boss himself, most notably that time when she told him to, “Stick it where the sun don’t shine.” He seemed to get a kick out of her fiery spirits because he had yet to punish her for it and for that all the other demons respected and feared her.

He is in the middle of explaining to Enjolras how the housing in Hell works when a raindrop hits him on the nose and he flinches like he’s been shot, nearly losing his balance on the street. Enjolras catches his elbow and steadies him with a concerned frown that at any other time might have curled Grantaire’s toes to see.

“Grantaire?” He asks worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Grantaire mutely nods and reaches desperately for Bahorel, sinking his fingers in the connection and saying tightly, _Check the weather in Vienna_. To Bahorel’s credit he doesn’t ask.

 _Ah shit_ , he says, having pulled up the weather on his phone (none of the demons have ever been able to decide how cellphones work in Hell or, for that matter, how they manage to get five bars underground). _It’s raining_.

Grantaire takes a deep breath through his nose and says quietly, _Thought so_.

Enjolras has stopped speaking to him, though he still holds Grantaire’s elbow. He focuses on that to keep from losing his mind, thinks about the heat behind Enjolras’ touch, how he can feel every wrinkle in his palm because they are the coolest points of contact.

 _Do you need me to come get you?_ Bahorel asks. Grantaire physically shakes his head and belatedly realizes Bahorel can’t see him, that he’s just said no to whatever Enjolras asked last.

 _I’m with Enjolras still_ , he says, ignoring the angel’s indecipherable look. _I’ll be coming back soon but I’m not running home like some pup with my tail between my legs_.

Bahorel sighs. _Suit yourself_ , he says, not unkindly, and rather than dropping the connection entirely he puts it on something similar to hold. If Grantaire makes any noise directed at him he’ll hear it but unless he focuses his head is private once more.

“I’m sorry,” he says aloud to Enjolras, “But would you mind terribly cutting this off a little early?”

He always yearns for a drink when it rains, maybe because it reminds him of when he died and how drunk he’d been back then. Enjolras asks softly, “Did you die in the rain?” and Grantaire jerks his head up. The rain is falling harder now, and rolls down his cheeks to hang from his chin.

He can’t find words so he nods and Enjolras takes his hands, an action that surprises Grantaire so deeply he looks down at their linked fingers rather than up at the storm clouds that are threatening their date. He watches Enjolras’ thumb smooth across his knuckles and has only the strength to nod when Enjolras says quietly, “Let me take you somewhere nicer.”

He’s enveloped in a warm touch that reminds him of the mother he barely knew and he only realizes it’s Enjolras’ wings curled around him when the feathers brush against his face. He doesn’t fight it, though the feeling is bizarre, and when Enjolras loosens his hold and his iridescent wings drop away they’re standing in the middle of a field somewhere, the tall grass studded with wildflowers. It’s nighttime here and a bird, startled from sleep, calls to them.

“There,” Enjolras says with a smile. “Is this better?”

Grantaire looks around, stunned. He’s never traveled with an angel before, had always assumed they moved like demons did; dipping into Heaven at certain points to to make a route faster. He’s certain they didn’t touch Heaven so he has to assume Enjolras flew here on his own and Grantaire finds himself squinting at his wings, struggling to discern the overlapping lights and see if there is more than one set.

Enjolras seems amused at the staring and says, “There are three pairs. But Grantaire, are you sure you’re alright?”

Grantaire nods slowly and says, “Thank you.” Enjolras merely smiles.

“I thought it was a nice reward for your gentlemanly behavior on our date,” he says, and bestows a kiss upon Grantaire’s forehead that scalds him. “We are in Hawaii, by the way.” He lifts his wings and says, “It was a pleasure, Grantaire.”

“Will I see you again?” Grantaire asks—he is powerless not to.

Enjolras laughs and again Grantaire is reminded of bells (could this man be even more stereotypically angelic?). “We’ll see,” he says, and disappears in a flicker of light.

**Author's Note:**

> requested by two anons on tumblr and Sherrie_H over here C:
> 
> title is of course from Paradise Lost by Milton yes quite
> 
> glad to be finally updating this bad boy, I missed it! :D thank you to everybody who requested it, and who likes this one too, of course
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest--come request or ask things or love me I don't care :3


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